A Remedy for Sleep
by MorganaMoore
Summary: A sleepless Harry is wandering the corridors again. Deep in the dungeons on one of his night time prowls he finds an unforeseen remedy. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of these characters nor am I making any money off of them. I am only playing for a while. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Warnings**: Voyeurism, Harry is fifth year. This story is slash and is sexual in nature. Please do not read if this bothers you. HP/SS

**Insomnia**

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The few torches that are lit give off a muted light but do nothing to dispel the chill of the night. Harry adjusts his invisibility cloak as he heads across the great hall. He has no destination. He has never liked the darkness of night that envelops his dorm magnifying his loneliness. The soft noises of sleep from behind the bed curtains of his dorm mates seem to mock him nightly, so he leaves them behind.

For a moment he wishes he has Hermione's love of books so that he could find a moment of escape in their pages. He's tried. As soon as he begins reading, his mind cries out in the quiet that surrounds him. His eyes trace out the words but after a time he realises that he has no idea what he's read. He's tried everything. Nothing stops his mind from turning over what is coming….what is expected of him. The nights are the worst.

So on this night, like so many others before it, he walks. It's 3 am and he knows everyone is asleep. In this hour, the castle belongs to him. The students who stay up late studying in their dorms, the teachers who are finishing their marking for the next day, Dumbledore and the members of the Order who work into the early hours are all safely tucked away in their beds. He doesn't expect to run into Snape either. He's never seen him out in these hours. He suspects that Voldemort doesn't require Snape during the school week should it arouse suspicion, but this is only a theory As such, precautions must be taken and it is for this reason that Harry wears the cloak. Hooch won't be up for her run around the lake for another couple of hours. Students who have left their work for the pre-breakfast hours will not be stirring. Filtch and Mrs. Norris often start their days early but not yet.

Not now. Now is for him.

He turns down a familiar hallway. One he's travelled along many nights before this and will travel again on many nights to follow. He enters the trophy room and stops in front of the trophy case. He touches the glass and outlines the shape of the plaque. He leans in and rests his forehead watching as a circle of fog grows and shrinks with every breath he takes. He pays homage to his father. He rolls his body around to lean against the trophy case and rolls his head to look around the room. In a way he cherishes these hours. They are his and he only need be himself. He sighs heavily pushes off the trophy case and heads back out on his journey.

He finds himself heading for the Slytherin dungeons. He doesn't ask himself why, he just follows his feet. He's walking down a corridor he doesn't recognise but that doesn't surprise him as he rarely explores this part of the castle. This is enemy territory.

There is something strange about this corridor but Harry can't place what it is. He feels…not like someone is watching him…but quite the opposite. He stops to take a closer look at his surroundings and whispers a lumos. The walls have large tapestries hanging from the low ceilings. There are suits of armour and carved sculptures along the length of it with portraits hanging between the tapestries….but wait! He looks closer. There are no portraits. He walks a bit further along inspecting the paintings, one, then another, and another. He sweeps his gaze over the walls. He sees landscapes of the Highlands, of pastures with animals grazing on hills, a large tree bending to the will of strong wind and rain, but no portraits. No people. No one is watching. He considers why this disturbs him and only then does he realise that he hasn't been as alone as he thought on his night time travels. He smiles to himself as he feels a bit lighter, a bit freer and he continues to explore the area.

The corridor leads into another. He can choose to go to the right or to the left. He feels like he did back in first year when the whole castle was new and every night of insomnia lead to a small adventure. He looks to the left and sees more tapestries and paintings, a couple of gargoyles and suites of armour. He looks to the right and sees a door. He looks behind him in surprise. There are no doors along this corridor nor along the one to the left. He turns right, quietly cancelling his lumos. He makes his way by the dim light of the wall tourches.

He's glad he left his slippers on rather than wearing his shoes as the ground is stone. There are no carpet runners here as there are in many of the other corridors. Again, he adjusts his invisibility cloak. It doesn't fit him as well as it did when he was small. He makes his way along towards the door. He tries the handle. It's unlocked. A door likely leads to somewhere! He smiles to himself as his heart quickens. He opens it slightly. Slowly. He creeps up tight against the wall and peeks through the open crack.

Inside is a large storage room filled with old cauldrons stacked haphazardly on shelves. Benches are stacked along one side with tables one on top of the other pushed up against the wall. There is an obvious layer of dust in the room and cobwebs clustered in the joists of the rafters. Once he's sure he's alone he casts a lumos. He opens the door enough so that he can enter. He sees that along the other side the wall is covered in glass cabinets filled with jars covered in so much dust that it is difficult to see what they contain, if anything. He walks closer and notices most are empty and some are broken. Then he notices that one cabinet is open and there is a void in the dust where a jar has been recently removed.

He hears something shuffle against the back wall and jumps. Realizing it must have been an animal, (a mouse perhaps?) he gives himself a shake. He goes over to take a closer look at the back of the room and notices that the room is not rectangular. There is a small area off to the right about the size of Dudley's second bedroom. This space, too, is stacked high with unused and forgotten equipment and furniture. On the far side, again, is a door…a door with a faint glow of light seeping out from under it. He quickly whispers 'nox' and immerses himself in darkness, holding his breath, listening.

Without the glow of his wand there is still enough light for him to notice that the door is ajar. He moves closer, being careful not to make any noise with his cloak. He looks in and sees another room with books covering the walls from the floor to the ceiling. There is a fire place in the far corner. A dark couch and two large chairs all surround the unlit grate. The room is too dark to see the colour of the chairs. He eases the door open and notices the light is coming from one of the other doors leading off of the room. He inches closer slowly closing the door behind him. He thinks he can hide safely in here if needed and he doesn't want the open door to alert whoever might be here.

As he moves across the room he notices that the furniture is leather. He can't be sure if it's brown, or black or blue but they sit on the edge of a thick light coloured shag rug that is in front of the hearth with a coffee table between them. He silently berates himself telling himself to turn around and go back to his dorm but his curiosity is too great.

He gets to the door with the light and looks in. He swallows a gasp as he sees one of the most luxurious bathrooms he's ever seen. Even more so than the prefects bathroom. It seems as though the entire room has been carved from one piece of white marble. The floor leads seamlessly to a set of four stairs leading up to a large bathtub. If it was any larger Harry would be pressed to say it's a swimming pool. The counter is also made of this marble with two sinks carved into it and black obsidian cabinet doors beneath it. Opposite to the bathing tub, the floor has steps down to a large shower with many different shower heads all pointing to the center of the shower. There is no door to this shower, but it's so large that the water wouldn't escape. There is another open door directly across the room and he can see a large bed beyond. He sees a shadow pass and pulls back a bit and then remembers that he is not visible.

Suddenly the far door frame is filled with a man.

A very naked man.

A very naked Snape.

Harry feels a rush of blood pool in his groin and reminds himself to question that later. Harry watches closely as Snape moves to turn on the shower holding his hand under the spray waiting for the water to warm. Harry admires his taut backside. While the water is running he moves to the sink where Harry can see his long, lean profile clearly. His hair is greasy as usual and his face is as harsh as it always has been. It is Snape's body that captures Harry's attention now. Is this the body that is usually covered and buttoned up as tightly as the potion master himself?

His legs are long and thin but defined muscles are evident beneath the dark coating of hair. Harry moves his eyes appreciatively up those legs to his hips which look like they have very little meat to spare. Snape is brushing his teeth and leans over to spit and as he does his long cock swings into view and again Harry feels a rush of blood to his groin. He's half hard and gives himself a squeeze.

Snape stands up straight and turns off the taps as he looks at himself in the mirror. He pauses. Harry can't see his eyes but Snape's stance betrays his weariness. He sighs as he heads for the shower. Harry shifts his position a little to get a better view. Snape holds his hand out and watches the water spray over it and steps into the shower. He adjusts a few knobs and all of the shower heads are spraying him at different angles. He starts to lather his body with the soap and Harry nearly lets a moan escape as he watches those long slender fingers roam over the surprisingly defined chest. Snape washes his hair, soaps his legs, arms, chest.

Harry leans forward as those long fingers slide down his chest following the trail of dark hairs and nestle in the mound of curls at the base of his cock. Then they curl around the cock and slide along to the end. And back down. And up…and Harry realises that Snape is doing more than washing his penis. He's stroking it. Harry grabs his own now hard cock beneath his pyjama bottoms and gives it another squeeze.

Snape works slowly as he runs his other hand over his nipples pinches them. He flicks his finger back and forth across one nipple and then the other as his cock fills and hardens. He then leans his forehead against the shower wall and while stroking his ever growing cock with one hand, he reaches back and runs his other hand over the mounds of his round arse squeezing them, moaning. His breathing is noticeably heavier and Harry breathes to match.

Snape slides his hand up to the top of his arse and then slowly slips one finger between the two cheeks as his hand moves back down. He spreads his feet out as he starts teasing his hole and speeds up the stroking of his now fully hard cock. Harry can see the purple glans that have pushed past the foreskin. Snape turns to lean his back against the shower wall giving Harry a full frontal view of Snape furiously bringing himself to completion. Snape abandons his hole and moves around to fondle the heavy balls, rolling them in his hand. His mouth is slack and his head is thrown back as he gives himself over to experiencing the pleasure. Harry pushes his hand down the front of his pyjama bottoms and grabs his balls giving them a tug to stave of the impending orgasm he feels building up. A low guttural moan reaches Harry's ears as he watches a stream of come shoot from the massive cock seemingly taunting him and teasing him. Harry is mesmerized and absently licks his lips, not taking his eyes off of that pulsing, purple cock.

Snape seems to bodily deflate as his cock does and turns to give himself one last rinse and turns off the shower. He steps out and grabs a towel wrapping himself in it, walks into the bed chamber, mutters 'nox' and closes the door behind him.

Harry can't move. He is as hard as he can ever remember being and tugs again on his balls wondering what to do next. He waits and watches for a few minutes then closes the door that he has been watching through. He looks around the dark room and realizes he must be in Snape's chambers. The door he came through must be an old storage room off of the back as he knows he's on the far side of the main Slytherin corridor.

He moves to sit in one of the chairs by the cold hearth recognising that he is too hard to walk back to his dorm room right now. He sits and waits for his arousal to dissipate but he can't get the image of Snape out of his mind and his cock keeps twitching, demanding attention.

How is it that a man ~Snape!~ has got him so hard? He's not gay. He's sure his isn't. He's never checked out a guy or thought any of his classmates were hot. Harry decides to be honest with himself as he's never thought that of his female classmates either. Could he be gay? His mind wanders back to the image of that massive purple cock and his own twitches in response.

He slides one hand down the front of his pyjamas bottoms, grabbing and squeezing himself while his other hand slides up the front of his pyjama shirt flicking and teasing his nipple. Oh! That felt good! His cock pulses in his hand in agreement. He'd never thought of that as being a place guys would feel anything special. He knew some of the mechanics of sex and had always thought that that was a place you would touch a girl. He moans to himself: Merlin he's so hard!

He looks back over at the door and notices no light and the door is firmly closed. He pulls his pyjama bottoms down and hooks the elastic under his balls freeing his penis. He continues flicking his finger back and forth across his nipple while squeezing and tugging at his cock with the other. He teases the slit with his finger spreading the copious amounts of precome over his glans. It doesn't take long and a small moan escapes as he spurts his sticky fluids all over the inside of his invisibility cloak. He keeps stroking and he milks himself until he's spent.

He can smell his release and as he comes out of his aroused haze he realises he's still in Snape's rooms. He tucks himself back in and wipes his hand on his pyjama top as he works his way back out to the store room from which he came. He carefully closes the door but leaves it slightly ajar as it was found. Once he's across the room and back out in the corridor he pauses to catch his breath. To breathe.

He looks around once more, closes the door, cleans himself off with a flick of his wand and makes his way back along the strange corridor on rubbery legs. Across the Grand Entrance and back up in Gryffindor Tower, he puts his cloak into his trunk, wards it and climbs under the red and gold covers of his bed pulling the curtains closed around him. He lies back on his pillow thinking about what he saw and he drifts asleep with new images and new thoughts swimming around in his minds eye. He sleeps soundly.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own these characters. I only play with them. HP/SS SLASH, Harry is in 5th year

**Ascendancy**

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It isn't often that Snape indulges in physical release, but he hasn't been sleeping well. Voldemort is working up new plans and Snape is lucky enough to be included in the drafts ~ if being privy to the mad man's mind can be considered 'lucky'. Unfortunately, this requires a change in the hours that he is available to the Dark Lord. Usually he is only required to attend to Voldemort on weekends as the Dark Lord doesn't often call on his services beyond ensuring that the Death Eaters have an available supply of potions. These usually include basic potions for healing or for keeping the Death Eaters alert on long missions.

Now, Voldemort is requesting a more complex, disturbingly dark potion that is requiring many hours of research on Snape's part stealing his precious hours, once used for sleep. And things are changing.

Voldemort and his inner circle are moving ahead faster than Snape would like. The silver in this cloud is that he now has better access to the Dark Lord's vision -although he still hasn't worked out exactly how it all fits together. This latest potion makes the surly Potions Master more anxious than any of the others. However, he admits to himself that he finds the challenge exhilarating. After hours of searching his personal stores, and those long neglected throughout the school, he has found the missing ingredient- one that has long been unavailable as this type of potion is all but extinct. For good reason. It took weeks to locate it and he shakes his head at the fact that it is found in a room just beyond his own. He has been out until the now early hours of the morning brewing for the Dark Lord.

But now he is home. He waves his hand over his door, muttering the password under his breath.

He is weary. He disrobes, placing his clothes in a hamper. He enters the bathroom. He turns on the water to the shower and lets the hot water run through the cold pipes. He places his hand under the water and checks the temperature. Frigid.

While he waits for the water, he brushes his teeth and leans over the sink to spit. He stands up and peers into his reflection. He quickly assesses the long, lank hair framing his narrow face. He knows it only accentuates the length of his crooked nose which matches his crooked teeth. He is remembering an old muggle nursery rhyme and sighs as he moves back towards the shower.

He holds out a hand and the water is ready. Goose pimples pop up all over his body as it recognises that it is cold and the water is warm. He steps in and adjusts the taps so that his body is wrapped in the warm cascade. He stands for a moment and enjoys the streams of water as they gently massage the tension from his muscles.

It is not his wont to indulge in fripperies, but he does not begrudge himself this shower. He imagines it washes away his guilt after sessions with Voldemort. It is his own personal baptismal font. He soaps a cloth and washes away the grim of the dust from his legs, his arms. He thinks of his bed and he knows that the exhaustion he feels is not enough for his body to succumb to sleep. He runs his hands along his chest. They move lower. He fights his urges as he does most nights. They are inappropriate. They confirm what he knows. He can never truly stand in the Light.

He can deny them in the harsh light of day, but at night…

The nights are the hardest.

His hands take over and his eyes flutter shut as he gives in. He runs his fingers through the tight curls at the base of his cock and he feels the heat pooling there. He welcomes it as the blood moves from his brain…from the part that screams for him to stop. On the second stroke, his cock silences his mind and he gives in to the images that feed it. He slides his hand along his chest and in his mind, his fingers become the tip of a soft, pink tongue as they lick and flick across his nipples. He swallows a moan as his cock fills completely.

He leans his forehead against the shower wall trying to support the body his legs have all but abandoned. His hand moves behind him and squeezes his arse with a promise of more to come. His legs part, needing. He imagines it is another hand, ~a delicate hand~ and he trembles as the finger slips into his cleft and searches out his most sensitive spot. It reaches his anus. With the pad of his finger, he pushes at the tight, gripping muscle and he shivers despite the humid heat of the air caressing his body. His cock throbs and his hips thrust back in encouragement.

He grinds his teeth as he removes his hand. He cannot do this. He cannot bring himself to defile that delicate hand. It was not made for him.

He turns around and leans his back against the shower wall. He tries to clear his mind of all these images and finish what he started. He is too far lost in the sensations to will away his arousal.

He cups his balls weighing them. He relishes in the soft, velvety feel of them. He rolls them around as he frantically tugs and twists at his arousal. He rushes to completion as his cock pulses out his frustrations. He's satiated for now. He turns to rinse his ejaculate down the drain along side his guilt. He turns off the shower and wraps himself in a towel.

Drying himself off in his bed chambers, he climbs under the cold covers and shivers. Embers glow in the grate doing nothing to dispel the chill. He waits for his body to heat the bed. He knows he is weak. He knows he has succumbed to temptation, but he is satisfied as he did not indulge.

He knows that he will always fight this battle.

Tonight he wins and that is enough. He sleeps soundly.

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Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters nor do I intend any copyright infringements. This is HP/SS slash and Harry is in 5th year. If this bothers you, please move on. :)

**Despondency**

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The sound of the metal rings of his bed curtain sliding against the metal rod wakes him. He cracks open his eyes against the light of the morning to see the silhouette of Ron towering over him. He rubs his hand over his sensitive eyes as he sits up, looking to Ron for an explanation.

"You've missed breakfast, mate! You're going to be late for Potions."

Harry wakes fully now as he casts a tempus. Damn. He has only 15 minutes to get dressed and make it all the way down to the dungeon classroom. Ron calls out to him that he'll meet him there as Harry scrambles out of his bed, grabbing his uniform and toothbrush. He rushes down the hall to the bathroom.

He is shoving his toothbrush into his mouth as he pushes down his pyjama bottoms. They pool at his ankles and he uses his feet to push them all the way off as he stands in front of the toilet. Frantically brushing his teeth with one hand and pulling back the foreskin on his penis with his other, he relieves himself. He gives himself a quick shake to dispel any droplets of urine.

He moves to the sink and wets a cloth all the while moving the toothbrush around in his mouth. He wipes his face and rinses his mouth as he frantically looks around for his pants. He realizes he's forgotten them, shrugs and pulls on his trousers. Leaving his toothbrush and facecloth on the counter he tears off his pyjama top, slides his arms into his shirt he slips his sock-less feet into his shoes. He grabs his school robes and tie and runs down the stairs while buttoning his shirt.

He reaches the Grand Entrance while working on his Windsor knot; he is nearly fully dressed. Tie tied, he rushes down to the dungeons running his hands through his sleep tousled hair in a desperate and futile attempt to tame it. He arrives breathless just as Snape is opening the door to usher in the students. It is only now that Harry remembers. He is thankful that the red in his cheeks can be explained away by his frantic morning.

He slides into his seat, realizes that he's forgotten his supplies and looks over to Ron who meets his panicked eyes. Ron looks at him quizzically for only a moment and he notices Harry's predicament. He hands Harry a quill and nudges Hermione indicating for her to pass Harry some spare parchment. Today is not a practical lesson, so Harry is spared the need of this textbook. The class settles and Snape begins his lecture.

Harry's hand moves along the parchment as he absently takes notes. He hears the words well enough to write them down but not well enough to register their meaning. He leans his head on his hand and only now does he realize that last night he slept undisturbed longer than he had since the beginning of the school year. His eyes flicker up to his dreaded Potions Professor.

Snape is pushing one sleeve up his forearm and is reaching into a cauldron. He pulls something out. He is explaining the process but Harry only notices the pale wrist and the fine dark hairs, barely visible below the cuff of the white shirt. A quiet groan escapes his throat as the arousal of last night creeps into his trousers. His own sound startles him; he sits upright and looks around to see if anyone has notice. He catches Hermione's curious look. He looks to Ron who seems to be lost in another world, glazed eyes staring straight ahead of him. Harry looks back to Hermione and stretches his back with an apologetic smile trying to convince her, as well as himself, that the sound he just made was due to a crick in his back.

He looks back to the front as Snape's eyes catch his. It is only for a moment, but Harry feels that gaze like a physical jolt to his nervous system. He puts his head on the table and cradles it in his folded arms as he realizes this is not a good sign. Snape continues his demonstration and Harry lifts his head slightly to watch. He is fixated on the long, pale, potion-stained fingers. He watches how they move as they push the ingredients under the blade of a knife, so deftly manoeuvred. He looks closer at Snape's face. His eyes trace along the sharp cheekbones and Snape looks up, again catching his eye.

He sees the sneer on the Potion Masters face before he hears it in his voice.

"Potter? Is there a problem?"

Oh Merlin! The silky sneer enters his ear canals and the nerve endings misdirect the impulse rerouting the sound from his brain to his cock and he hardens.

An eyebrow rises above one of the inky eyes that observe him and Harry tries to make sense of the words that are spoken to him. He files his physical reaction away to further scrutinize it later. That is going to take some deep thought and a lot of time. _Perhaps some Muggle therapy wouldn't be remiss, either_, he thinks to himself.

"Since it seems you think yourself above paying attention, perhaps you think this potion below your abilities." He pauses and steps closer to Harry. "Perhaps you feel you could brew it perfectly without instruction?" He leans closer. "Fine, Mr Potter. You shall do it your way. Kindly take your things and return this evening at 7pm sharp." He is now leaning his hands on Harry's desk and his cold stare is piercing right through him. His voice drops, menacingly. "You will brew this perfectly before you leave tonight."

Harry looks around the room trying to make sense of what has just happened. He sees Hermione's look of annoyance and Ron's look of pity. Ron offers his with a small shrug of his shoulder. Harry looks past his table and notices the rest of the class is staring at him…each student displays a different look of amusement. He sees Malfoy shaking with repressed laughter, grey eyes bouncing between Harry's stunned face and Snape's now retreating back. Harry looks at his quill and rolls his quill into his parchment. He gives one last glance at the stern, black eyed task master, turns and makes his way out of the room. He leans forward slightly as he walks, ensuring his robs fall smoothly in front of him to hide any possible embarrassment.

Harry walks across the Grand Entrance and turns to take the stairs that lead him to Gryffindor Tower. He mutters the password and steps through the portrait hole, ignoring the questions posed by the Fat Lady regarding his early dismissal from class.

He walks up the stairs leading to the dorms, walks into the loo to gather his discarded toothbrush and walks back to his room. He stuffs his parchment into his bag and climbs onto his bed. He pulls the curtains closed around him, props his pillows up against his headboard and settles in to mull over what has been happening to him.

He was turned on at the sight of a naked man. This bothers him. It bothers him more that he doesn't know if it was the fact that it was **_a_** man or rather that it was _that particular_ man. He's never seen a fully grown man naked before and he has definitely never seen a fully grown, fully aroused penis. He shakes his head. No one should see a professor naked. He is sure it is the novelty of the situation that had hardened him.

He considers the state his penis is currently in. He's sure the class today only brought back the memories of last night. He's heard about cell memory. Perhaps his current problem was due to penile memory. He admits to himself that he does need to investigate this further.

The first thing he needs to do is determine whether or not he is, in fact, gay._ I wouldn't doubt it_. He lets out a breathy snort. _Just one more thing that makes me different. Another thing for the wizarding world to hold against me_. He allows himself a brief moment for self pity. Every year there is something assumed about him or written about him that has people talking behind his back. Mocking him. He is used to this. He hopes that this new development won't destroy his friendship with Ron as the Tri Wizard Tournament nearly did.

He makes a conscious decision to not worry about that until he has more facts. He casts a tempus and sees that he still has 45 minutes until class lets out. He undoes his trouser button and carefully slips down his fly. He pulls out his penis and shivers pleasantly at how dirty he feels without any undergarments. He strokes himself, hardening.

He closes his eyes and casts his imagination around the boys' showers. Remembering the always exposed body's of his dorm mates does nothing to excite him. His imagination wanders to the Quidditch showers and recalls Draco's pale, round bum. His cock twitches and Harry sighs. This is not a good sign. He turns Draco around in his mind and looks closely at his groin. He swallows hard (he did _not _just gulp).

He notices the nearly straight, nearly white soft hairs surrounding his penis. He imagines Draco's fingers holding it gently between his thumb and his fingers. He sees him pull the foreskin away, exposing his glans. He imagines Draco is watching him do the same and their eyes lock. Slowly Draco pushes the foreskin forward leaving only a small turtleneck hole looking over at Harry. It slides back. And forward. And back. Draco continues this as his cock hardens and now the glans push through the foreskin- it is dark and swollen. Harry comes. Hard. He spurts over his hand as the image in his mind breaks and fades in a mist.

He's pretty sure that evidence is pointing to the fact that he is, in fact, gay. He's not sure how he feels about this. He wonders if watching a girl do… He pauses mid thought realising he's not sure _what_ a girl does.

He decides that it is in his best interest that he investigates this.

He casts a quick cleaning spell and gathers himself into his trousers, carefully zipping the fly so as not to catch himself in it. He grabs his bag and walks out his dorm room, flushed. He is breathing deeply as he tries to slow his rapid heart beat and he arrives at his transfiguration class.

He smiles at his friends as he walks to the back of the class with them. They sit and he spreads out the materials he needs in front of him. Professor McGonagall begins her lecture. Harry half listens to her while taking notes. He pauses. His eyes trace down from her face to her chest. He tries to make out the shape of her breasts. He can't see anything under the voluminous teaching robes. He is thankful for this as suddenly his body jerks. The thought of seeing McGonagall naked does the exact opposite of hardening his cock. He's pretty sure it's just made a hasty retreat. She is definitely_ not_ Snape.

He gives himself a mental shake and he's pretty sure he's not sound of mind. Harry rests his head in his hands trying to block out the images. Hermione leans over and asks if he's alright. He looks at her nods his head and turns back to his parchment. He continues taking notes, never looking up.

He shakes his head to refocus himself and tries to pay attention. He looks over at Hermione and glances down at her chest. His eyes snap back up to her face. He's pretty sure that if he continues down this road he'll turn himself right off of women…before he decides whether or not they can actually turn him on.

Hermione catches the sudden movement beside her as Harry suddenly sits straight up. She gives him an assessing look. Her brow furrows like she is trying to work something out. She leans over and whispers that he looks pale suggesting he go to the infirmary. He thinks this is a good idea but is pretty sure that Madame Pomfrey doesn't have anything for his problem and he is _determined_ to not allow his thoughts of Madame Pomfrey to go any further. He sighs, looks over to Hermione's notes and copies out everything he's missed.

It seems that the class has been caught in a broken time turner…never ending. The sun beats down on the black of his school robes, warming him. He starts to feel drowsy and he rests his head on his arms. He sleeps.

Thanks for reading...please review!


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own these characters. I only play with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Denial**

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The sun shines through the charmed windows deep in the dungeon and flitters across his closed eyes. It calls him to wakefulness. He stares up at the ceiling, relishing this moment of peace. His eyes are heavy from too little sleep but he's grateful for the bit he managed. He rolls over, casts off the heavy covers and he shivers as his warm, naked body meets the cool morning chill of the dungeon air. He slips his feet into the slippers waiting for him at the side of his bed, protecting him from the cold floor. He reaches for his wand and wraps himself in the bath robe hanging off of his bedpost.

It's Friday morning and he has to be teaching his wretched double potions in about…he casts a tempus charm…forty five minutes. He heads to the bathroom to relieve himself, exposing his most tender bits to the chilly air. He feels his scrotum shrink up in protest, finishes, shakes himself off and heads over to the sink to wash his hands.

He dries off his freshly washed face. He adds tooth polish to his tooth brush and begins brushing his teeth. His eyes roam over the bathroom to the door that leads to his sitting room. He stills. He's sure the door was open when he retired last night. He goes over and opening it, looks around his study. The door to the old storage room is ajar and he crosses the sitting room to investigate.

With the tooth brush still in his mouth, he goes through to the storage room and turns on a light. He casts his eyes over the room trying to determine what looks different, because something is definitely different. He looks to the cabinet in which he found the elusive acromantula venom and notices the void where the jar once sat. He realizes then that there is a trail in the dust leading from the far door that opens to the back corridor, moving straight across the room and ending at the door to his study.

He turns around in his surprise, almost expecting to see someone standing behind him. He removes the toothbrush from his mouth holding the water and paste behind pursed lips. He turns the light on in his study and looks around. He sees nothing to cause alarm. He wonders what caused the drag marks and realizes he has little time to get to class.

He closes the door and moves to his room to dress quickly. He's missed breakfast and leaves his chambers with the question of what had happened in the night niggling at his mind. Perhaps it was an animal seeking shelter. The castle is old and the highlands are cold. Perhaps it was the hem of his teaching robes dragging through the thick layer of dust. Did he cross to that side of the room in his search? He must have. He shrugs off the uneasiness and smirks, knowing he has his Gryffindor/Slytherin fifth year class to take out his tetchy mood on. He smiles. He looks forward to it.

He wishes he had called for some tea. No. Coffee. He's sure he could use the caffeine. He walks down the private corridor that leads from his personal quarters to his classroom, warding his room as he leaves. He enters through the back door, waves his wand and the classroom torches light. The quiet of the classroom is blesséd but he knows it will end shortly. He walks over to the supplies cabinet and collects the ingredients he'll need for today's lesson. He picks his favourite cauldron from the back shelf and sets it on his teaching bench. He hears the gathering chatter outside his door. He sighs to himself and as he walks to the back of the room he waves his hand. The blackboard fills with his handwriting.

He opens the door and the students fall quiet. He checks himself to ensure none of the delight he feels at their fear shows on his face. He stands at the door as the students slink in. The last to enter is Potter and he wonders at the flush that stains his cheeks. He feels something in his groin and is sure it is irrelevant.

He goes to stand in front of his teaching bench and turns to face the class in one quick motion, snapping his robes. Again, he fixes his facial features into a glower so as no to alert the students at the small joy that movement brings. He looks over his class as he begins to prepare the ingredients, noticing that Malfoy is smirking and Zabini is looking uncharacteristically smug. This is not a good sign and he is determined to keep a close eye on them.

He begins instructing the class on the proper preparations of the ingredients. He watches to be sure they are paying attention when he notices a movement at the back of the class. He marvels at how his mind spits the name 'Potter' as effectively as his voice does. Potter is unrolling a bit of parchment given to him by that exasperating, supercilious, know–it–all. His eyes narrow in displeasure. Potter's attention is now fully on his lecture and he ignores the exchange.

Snape pushes up the sleeve of his black teaching robe as far as he dares. He does not unbutton them. He knows the sight of the dark mark on his arm would surely cause a disturbance. He has not had coffee and knows that that would not end well. He is reaching into his cauldron to show the class what the mandrake should look like at this stage when he hears something. He looks up at Malfoy so that he can catch him in his scheme. Malfoy is writing furiously. He realises that he is not the source of the noise.

He scans the room and sees Potter's green eyes staring at him. Potter has his hands behind him and is stretching his back, his chest thrust forward. His robes are not fully buttoned and he is shocked at the outline of a nipple beneath the thin school shirt. He swallows. He narrows his eyes and glares at Potter, hoping the look is sufficient enough to cause Potter to cower in subservience. It seems it is and he is content with this.

He continues his lesson. He knows how useful this potion will be in the coming months. He is determined his students master it but is wary of the need for them to do so. It reminds him that he is tired. He glances around the class again and notices that daft Brown girl is gazing intently at something with a stupid half smile on her face. Her chin is resting in her hand and he looks to find the object of her admiration so that he can deliver his scorn with maximum effectiveness. His breath catches a bit in near gleeful anticipation. He is in need of an outlet as his weariness crawls under his skin.

He follows her gaze and sees…of course. Potter. Always at the receiving end of adulation. A shiver runs through him as he notices Potter looking at him. Really looking at him. Those green eyes shift from Snape's face and lock onto the black eyes. He quickly checks his facial features to ensure they give up nothing to that Gryffindor gaze. He is….uncomfortable. The sneer finds its home and he reacts.

"Potter? Is there a problem?"

He stops grinding the diricawl feathers and puts the heavy pestle down beside the mortar. He moves around to the front of his demonstration bench. Harry's body sits straight up in his chair. He pulls at his robes with nervousness. One eyebrow rises as he assesses this rather odd reaction.

Harry is watching his lips move as he speaks. Snape conscientiously does _not_ lick his lips before he continues.

"Since it seems you think yourself above paying attention, perhaps you think this potion below your abilities."

He's pretty sure Potter is not listening. He is frustrated. Potter should be quaking with fear not shifting around in his seat. He pauses and steps closer to Harry.

"Perhaps you feel you could brew it perfectly without instruction?" He leans closer trying to repress the boy's fidgeting. "Fine, Mr Potter. You shall do it your way. Kindly take your things and return this evening at 7pm sharp." He is now leaning his hands on Harry's desk and his cold stare is piercing right through him. His voice drops, menacingly. "You will brew this perfectly before you leave tonight."

Harry is meeting his gaze. He hasn't even flinched. For some reason this impresses Snape but he fights back the feeling. He scowls, knowing it is petty. He has larger worries than this boy's new found courage but he worries that if he cannot win this small battle with a boy, (a child he reminds himself), in a classroom, how will he be an effective member in the larger battle that looms?

He turns as Potter leaves the room grateful that he no longer has that…distraction? No, grateful that he can get back to the lesson at hand. He gives himself a mental nod of approval. Stepping back behind his demonstration table he watches as Potter leaves the room. He wonders fleetingly why the boy leans forward as he walk, but the thought is gone as soon as he has it. He casts a hard glare around the room and notices that the class seems to shrink back as coral would under the threat of a moving shadow. This mollifies him slightly.

The lesson passes smoothly from there on. He sighs as the last of the students leave the room. He takes a few moments to tidy his work area and he leaves the room through the back door. He is in the corridor and follows it down to his quarters. Muttering his password, he passes his wand over the door and it opens. He sighs knowing he has the rest of the morning free. He is glad the fire has been lit and tosses in some floo powder to call for some coffee. He removes his outer robe, hanging it on a hook by the door. He glances at the store room door and mentally files that concern away for a later time. He has no marking and sits wearily in an armchair. He reaches to the coffee table and picks up this month's Potions Journal. He has already read it but the motion of flipping through the pages relaxes him. The fire warms him and the soft light dances around the room. His eyes are heavy and he sleeps.

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: Far too much information about Myrtle.

I do not own these characters. I only play with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Absurdism**

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Harry starts awake and his whole body jerks. Hermione is glaring at him having just elbowed him in the ribs. It is only then that he notices Professor McGonagall is talking to him, brow furrowed in apparent exasperation. He feels something wet on his hand and looks down. He recognises it as drool and wipes his sleeve across his mouth as he mumbles his apologies to Professor McGonagall.

He fights his heavy eyelids for the remainder of the class, only once letting his head drop and snap back up. It's finally time for lunch and he stuffs his supplies into his bag. He swings his bag over his shoulder and nods to Ron's words of commiseration, acknowledging them rather than responding to him. He walks down the stairs to the Great Hall and as he enters the smell of food hits him; he notices that he is starving. He blushes slightly at the thought that it may be due to the fact that he has come twice in the past 8 hours. He glances at his two best friends to see if they notice his discomfort. They are bickering about … he listens and then decides he doesn't care and heads to his table.

He is sitting at the table surrounded by the casual chatter of his housemates. Seamus is describing how he once tried to rent porn from a video store before he came to Hogwarts. He shares in the laughter with the other muggle-born as they take in the bafflement of their classmates.

He is bringing his spoon up to his mouth and he feels a prickling at the back of his neck. He looks around the Great Hall and notices nothing remiss. As he casts his eyes back around the hall to his bowl of soup, he notices the Potion Master is just seating himself at the table. This time, he is not surprised at the pulse in his pants. His eyes widen as Snape looks up directly at him. Their eyes meet and just as quickly, the black eyes shift away. It is now that Harry remembers his detention tonight. He drops his spoon and groans as he puts his head in his hands.

He looks up at Hermione across from him and Ron beside him and shakes his head. "Detention". It is enough to quell their curiosity. Ron knows all too well how that would draw a groan form the bravest of Gryffindors.

Lunch ends and he makes his way up to the attic for his Divination class. Luna finds him and they walk behind Hermione and Ron, half listening to their bickering. Luna links her arm through his and he lurches away from her. She smiles at him and pulls him back to her side. When they reach the ladder to the attic, Luna asks him to meet her in Moaning Myrtles bathroom right after class. He nods his agreement hoping his confusion isn't obvious.

Incense assaults his nasal passages and he fights the oncoming drowsiness. He takes his tarot cards out from his bag and begins to shuffle them. He sneezes. He goes through the motions needed for the class and as the class draws to an end he tries to identify the fluttery feeling in his body. He is anxious. He wonders why as he packs his bag and moves towards the exit.

Promising to meet up with his friends later he heads down towards Myrtle's bathroom. He pushes the door to Myrtle's bathroom open and enters. Myrtle finds him and bats her eyelashes at him, welcoming him to her bathroom. She offers to share it with him.

He looks back at the door waiting for Luna. She doesn't come. He turns back to Myrtle and wonders just how big her crush is. He takes a deep breath and looks at Myrtle.

"Thanks Myrtle. I don't think I'm ready for sharing a bathroom right now. What do you do for fun in here?"

"Oh, I don't know. There's not much to do, Harry."

"Do you get bored?" He knows it's a stupid question and the look Myrtle is giving him confirms it.

"Yes."

"Lonely?"

"Yes."

Harry has an idea. He takes a deep breath and drops his voice. (He is _not_ imitating a certain Potion Master's voice). "What do you do when you're bored and lonely?"

She giggles, turns her head slightly and pushes her glasses up on her face. He blushes.

She begins to toy with the top button of her cloak. "Would you like to see?"

He gulps. "Yes."

She giggles again. Harry finds the sound grating but he can't move his eyes away from the spectral sight.

She opens her robe and her fingers are working down her school shirt. Harry is waiting for his cock to harden but it doesn't. Her bra is now visible. He's never seen a bra and wonders its purpose. He notices the outline of dark nipples through the fabric and the thought disappears as the bra is unclasped from the front.

His mouth falls open and he grabs his cock through his robs. He watches her as her fingers flit over her nipples. He squeezes his cock again. Damn! Nothing. He remembers Snape's fingers doing the same and his cock pulses.

"Do you like it, Harry? Do you want to see more?"

Harry swallows hard. He nods. He's not ready to give up. Her hand reaches down between her legs and pushes up her skirt. She starts to pull down at her undergarments and Harry sees the curl of her pubic hairs. He stares intent on feeling…something! Her other hand slips down beneath her panties and starts to move small circles. He holds his breath and waits. Finally her panties are down around her mid thigh and Harry looks closely and finds himself …completely…disappointed. It just doesn't look right without a cock, hard or flaccid, making its way out of the nest of curls. He sighs.

"Thanks Myrtle. Enjoy yourself." His shoulders slump and he waves his hand in a casual 'goodbye' as he turns to leave the bathroom. He's definitely gay. Even if he knows it's a good thing that he isn't turned on by Myrtle, he recognises the disappointment at the missing equipment.

He decides to cut Care of Magical Creatures. He knows Hagrid will be disappointed and he feels guilt at the prospect of lying to him but he needs to consider this new information. He does not go back to the tower. Instead, he goes to the library. He doesn't want to jerk off to the thought of Malfoy again and he definitely doesn't want to think of Snape like that. Even as he is thinking this, he knows he will return to that room in the dungeons, but first he has to get through his detention.

Dinner arrives and he resolutely makes his way back to the Great Hall to face Hermione's accusations. He slumps as he enters hoping that by looking dejected, she'll still think he looks ill. Hermione questions him and although she doesn't look convinced she accepts his excuse of a headache. It is not unknown that they frequent him in waking hours as well as at night.

He returns to the common room after eating what little he could. He waits in front of the fire. His stomach turns and churns, the intensity of it increases with every tick of the clock above the mantle.

Finally it is time to leave and he stands. His friends look at him with sympathy and pity. Ron mutters "good luck". He nods and straightens his shoulders. He grabs his bag. He checks that he has all of his equipment, including the complete set of notes scribed from Hermione's copy. He walks down from the tower and across the Grand Entrance. He turns towards the stairs that lead to the dungeons. As he passes through the archway, his stomach flutters and, horrifically, his cock stirs, as though it remembers the last time he walked this way along.

He is alone in the corridor and wills away his arousal. He is not hard and he thanks Merlin that the fear is enough. He reaches the potions classroom and knocks. The door opens and he enters. Snape is behind his desk. It seems he is marking. He looks up and nods his acknowledgment of Potter's arrival. He waves his hand to the store cupboard, indicating for him to begin.

Harry sets up his cauldron at his table while _not_ watching Snape from under his fringe. He gathers his supplies from the supply cupboard and returns to his table. He is very careful as he prepares his ingredients. Snape's scowl is turned on high, and thankfully not turned on him. He is careful not to attract any attention.

Harry soon gets lost in the brewing process. It takes all of his concentration and he is startled out of his work when Snape uses a very muggle profanity. He looks up and sees Snape grimacing under a glare that is now focused _entirely_ on him. Harry's eyes open wide as he notices Snape's hand clutching his arm. He swears again and points his wand at Harry, muttering a spell under his breath.

"You'll have to return tomorrow to finish that. I have important business to attend to and I can't be bothered babysitting right now."

Harry stares at him, mouth hanging half open, frozen in place.

"GO!" and at the sharp command, Harry gathers up his tools and is shoving them into his bag as he leaves the classroom. He hears the door slam behind him and feels a tingle of magic against his back as wards are set in place. He is climbing the stairs to Gryffindor Tower and he casts a tempus. It is 8:30. It is early but he's sure he can go to bed without any hassle. He reaches the portrait and gives the Fat Lady the password. The portrait swings aside and he steps through the portrait hole and into the common room.

"I'm tired. I'm going up now." He offers the words to his friends as he heads up to bed, registering their accepting nods. He grabs his pyjamas and toothbrush and goes to the toilets to complete his evening ablutions. Once finished he walks towards his dorm room, enters, puts his tooth brush away and climbs into bed. He puts his wand and his glasses on the nightstand beside him and pulls the curtains closed. He is tired. He thinks that perhaps, tonight, he will sleep. He rolls over and pulls the covers up under his chin, trapping as much heat with him as possible. His mind tries to replace Myrtle with other girls in one last, desperate hope. He sees Cho's hand flicking across her nipples. He watches Ginny with her hands down inside her panties. His heartbeat quickens as the images shift to ones of him flying across the quidditch pitch. The images slowly morph into dreams as he sleeps.

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Thanks for reading! I'll tell you now that the detention isn't quite what it seems. I'll also try and post the next chapter today to help remove the images from Myrtle's scene from your head.

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter is short but I hope it satisfies!

I do not own these characters. I only enjoy them. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Acquiescence**

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The rattle of a china cup against its saucer wakes him and he sits up. He reaches for his coffee and the first sip washes through him waking him fully. He goes to the Great Hall for lunch and looks over the dining students as he makes his way towards his seat. He hears a shout of laughter and his eyes follow to it. It is those bloody Gryffindors. He notices Potter. His eyes are sparkling as he laughs with his classmates. His eyes lock onto Potter's lips as he brings the spoon to his mouth and there….his tongue reaches out to meet the spoon and Snape feels a stirring in his groin. He looks away quickly at the sensation but he can't stop his eyes from returning to the delectable image. Potter's green eyes find his. His cock springs up. He looks away, mortified and quickly sits. He is dreading the detention he has given this evening and as always, the most dreaded things tend to come….er…arrive quickly. He manages the rest of his day with little trouble.

He readies himself in his classroom with a missive sent down to him from Dumbledore. It is detailing the current status of the Order and he begins to write down some information pertaining to it gathered from his last Death Eater meeting. There is a knock on the door and his stomach clenches. He waves his wand and the door opens.

Potter enters meekly and Snape doesn't trust himself to speak. It is a good look on the boy. The memory of that pink tongue hardens him instantly. He knows he cannot move from his seat. He watches Potter out of the corner of his eye and sees the green of his eyes peeking out from beneath the black fringe. He surreptitiously slides his hand to his lap and squeezes his cock through his trousers.

He swallows a growl. He watches the boy carefully prepare his ingredients. It seems he is fully absorbed in his work. His fingers toy with the fly on his trousers and he gives into the temptation. He shuffles the papers around on his desk to mask the sound of the zip. He slips his hand in and pulls out his very hot cock. The relief from the pressure of his pants has him slouch in his chair ever so slightly.

He watches Potter working from the corner of his eye as he works his hand up and down his hardened cock. He twists it and runs his thumb over the slit, spreading the precome and lubricating the shaft. He slips the tip of his finger beneath his foreskin and runs it along the edge of his glans. His breathing is heavy and he tries to control it. He has a difficult time believing what he is doing and a harder time convincing himself to stop. His legs fall apart and he pulls out his balls and rolls them in his hand. One hand continues to work itself, bringing him closer and closer to fulfilment while the other maintains the illusion of writing. Potter licks his lips in concentration. "Ungh…Fuck!" and Snape comes all over the underside of his desk. Potter looks up and Snape fixes his face into a glare and quickly brings both hands above the desk so as not to be caught. "Shite!"

He whispers a cleaning spell under his breath and another spell to hold Potter's potion in stasis. "You'll have to return tomorrow to finish that. I have important business to attend to and I can't be bothered babysitting right now."

Potter looks at him, stunned.

"GO!" He yells, and to his surprise, Potter does.

Snape quickly wards the door and tucks himself in. There is no use for it. He is losing this battle. Disgusted with himself, he leaves the classroom and slams the door behind him. He walks down the corridor and enters his chambers. He enters his bathroom and disrobes. He has a quick, perfunctory shower, avoiding his genitals and climbs into bed trying desperately not to think on what he just did. He reaches into his night stand for a vial of dreamless sleep, breaks the seal and drinks it. He recaps the empty vial and places it on the night stand. He rolls onto his side and pulls the covers up around his neck and waits for the images of the boy to fade from his conscience. He sleeps.

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Thanks for reading! I appreciate all of the replies and apologise for not responding. I haven't mastered how to do that without my computer logging me out of my account but I do want to say thanks for the reviews! I enjoy hearing from you. I'll be away for a few days and will be finishing this up when I return!


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own these characters. I only play with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Asservation**

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He wakes with a start and grasps at the edges of the dream trying to remember what woke him. He realizes it's futile and rolls to his side. He sighs. He knows he's awake again for the duration of the night. The sounds of sleep around him drive him out of his bed. He slips his feet into his slippers and finds his invisibility cloak in his trunk.

He knows to not go down to the dungeons and he knows that he will.

He creeps across the dorm room and closes the door behind him with a soft click. He makes his way down the stairs, across the common room and out the portrait hole with only a minimal protest from the fat lady.

He steals a breath and holds his shoulders straight as he makes his way towards the stairs that will lead him out of the sanctity of Gryffindor tower. His path is deliberate and with each step he takes towards his destination his mind protests. He reaches the stairs to the dungeons and his heart beats in time with his footsteps. His cock pulses along creeping up to full attention as his feet carry him towards the storage room. He squeezes it in anticipation. He knows it is unlikely that he will see the Professor tonight and he refuses to acknowledge the disappointment that sits heavy in his chest. He casts a tempus and is not surprised to see it is indeed his hour to walk.

He finds the corridor with the strange paintings and moves slowly along to its end. He looks down towards his feet and sees that his cock is sticking straight out from his body without the restraints of heavy trousers to keep it at bay. He imagines he's following it like a 'point me' charm.

He reaches the end of the corridor and looks to his right towards the door. It is shut. He walks up to it and whispers 'alohomora'. He hears a soft click and finds himself surprised that Snape hasn't secured it in his absence. Then he remembers there is no reason for Snape to suspect he was here. An involuntary shudder passes through him as his mind toys with the idea of being caught. He's somewhat disturbed (and no longer surprised) to notice that the thought only makes him harder.

He cracks open the door and peeks inside. It seems nothing has changed. The room is still filled with dusty artifacts from years past and he wonders if Snape even uses this room. He crosses it, and steps into the smaller side room. He walks up to the door. He leans into the door and places his ear flush against it. He doesn't suspect that Snape is awake but finds comfort in the false sense of security this simple act elicits. He runs his hand down to the door knob and finds it is locked. He is nervous and searches himself for the courage it will take to enter the room. He steps back to consider his options. The pause allows him to see the situation clearly but instead of turning back to the tower as common sense dictates, he sinks to his knees.

Placing the side of his head against the cold stone floor he sees that there is a gap between the door and the floor. He removes his glasses and pushes his face right up to the gap. He can see a faint glow and it flickers across the room like the light cast off of a dying fire. He listens and hears nothing. He stands still and after a thorough castigation, casts an 'alohomora'.

The lock clicks open and he places his hand on the knob. He takes a deep breath and slowly turns the handle. He waits.

No one objects to the open door and so he pushes it into the room, just a fraction. Through the small opening he sees that the room is apparently empty. He opens the door another fraction. He can see the entire room now. It is empty. He feels the muscles in his shoulders loosen.

He can make out details that he could not see the last time he was here. The embers in the grate softly illuminate the chocolate brown furniture. There are colourful throws and pillow adorning the seats. The area is set up around a large hearth. Behind this sitting area and across the room there is a large desk. It is set the centre of three walls covered from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. They are filled entirely with books. There are no other ornaments. No nick knacks. No pictures.

Harry closes the door and steps into the room to take a closer look. He notices that the books are categorised. Snape seems to have a large section on potion books and another on charms. He sees a section filled with history book both magical and muggle, and notices a definite lack of 'Hogwarts a History'. Philosophy, cooking, gardening and, Harry steps closer, muggle fiction are also well represented. He runs his fingers across the spine of 'Huckleberry Finn'.

He turns and walks over to _that_ door. The one that leads to the bathroom. His cock lurches. He squeezes it in a sort of commiseration. The door is closed and he sees no light beneath it. He slowly opens it and notices the far door leading to the bedchamber is also closed. His courage fails him here and he retreats to the study.

His eyes sweep across the room again and take in the cosy sitting area in front of the hearth. The embers are still glowing and suddenly he realises he is cold. He goes to sit on the sofa directly across from the fire grate and revels in the faint warmth of the embers.

He lies down on the couch and slips his hand into his pyjama bottoms. He grasps his cock and lazily runs his fingers up and down, caressing it, while he stares, mesmerized, into the glowing embers. His mind bounces from image to image, thought to thought, settling on nothing. Suddenly a picture of Snape in his shower with his finger rubbing between the cheeks of his arse flits across Harry's mind and he becomes hyper aware of his cock. It aches for more than the casual attention he has been giving it.

He adjusts his invisibility cloak around him and pulls his pyjama bottoms off. He lets his legs fall apart and unbuttons his top. He feels dirty and his cheeks flush with excitement. He licks the fingers of one hand and brings them to his nipples, flicking them, pinching them. His other hand cups across the head of his cock and drags the precome down his shaft, lubricating it. The slide and pressure of his hand is comforting. The feel of the veins and curve of his cock is as familiar to him as the handle of his wand. He momentarily gets lost in the rhythm. He suddenly remembers where he is and quickly grabs at his scrotum, giving it a sharp tug in order to keep from coming. Not yet. He wants more.

He turns over onto his knees and rests his head on the armrest. He is pushing his arse up in the air as he coats a finger with the precome dripping off his cock. He slips the moistened finger between his own cheeks and seeks out his pucker. Finding the sensitive spot he starts to stroke it, matching the pace of his other hand working his cock. He imagines its Snape's finger as it breaches the muscle. With that image driving him, he pushes his finger into his arse as far as he can reach and he explodes with a guttural groan. He rides out his orgasm while pumping his finger in and out of his hole. Never having come so hard, he falls to his side and passes out and slowly the blackness morphs into sleep.

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Thanks so much for reading and for leaving all of your comments! I LOVE reading them! I hope you're still enjoying this!


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own these characters, I only play with them. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Denouement**

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Potions always make him foggy when he wakes, that is why he rarely takes them. He feels slightly refreshed and wonders at the time. He reaches over to his bedside table and pats around looking for his wand. He finds it and casts a lumos. It's late, or perhaps it is early. He waves the wand towards the cold hearth and starts a fire. The warmth slowly creeps across the cold dungeon room and climbs up to his bed. He knows he will not sleep. He pushes the bed covers away from him as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. Slipping his feet into his slippers, and wrapping himself in his bathrobe, he moves to the loo. He is relieving himself when he has a sudden vision of the detention last night. He feels his face glow hot with embarrassment and arousal. The penis in his hand hardens slightly as it urinates. He finishes and gives it a shake.

He washes his hands and then turns to his study to read until the dawn breaks and he can start his day. He notices the door is open. He thinks back to the night before. He is sure the door was closed but concedes that he was not in a rational frame of mind, so it is likely he is not remembering correctly. He waves his wand towards the hearth and lights the fire. He walks over to the bookshelves and selects a muggle novel. He notices a correspondence on his desk that he has neglected to answer. Sighing, he sits to complete the task.

He folds the parchment and seals the letter with wax. He puts it on the corner of the desk and stands to retreat to the sitting area. He looks over and sees…he's not sure what it is. It must be a trick of the light. There is a black cat? rodent? sitting on the armrest of his sofa. He approaches it cautiously, careful not to startle it. Perhaps this is the creature that left the trail in the dust.

He reaches the sofa and his breath catches. He recognises the mop of hair now. He reaches over and gently pulls down the invisibility cloak revealing the rest of the creamy, soft face of Potter. He is momentarily frozen in confusion. He wonders if he is dreaming but there is a sharp pungent odour in the air that suggests he is not.

He looks closely at the face. The cheekbones are sharp and high. His chin is small and pointed giving the heart shaped face a feminine quality that is belied by the strong jaw. His nose is pert and his eyebrows heavy. His long, black lashes curl against the soft globes of his cheeks.

He pulls the cloak down further and his eyes follow the slender neck down to the muscled chest. His cock pulses when he sees the brown nipples harden as they are exposed to the air. He relishes this moment. He can look. He sees things he's never noticed before-never seen before. He has never been able to just observe him before, always wary of being caught.

Could this be his punishment for his earlier actions? Was this boy, (he sees the fine dusting of hair around the nipples) no, this man here to tempt him? To ensure a place for him in the second circle of hell? It must be so.

His battle rages. He is not a strong man. He succumbed to the promise of power from Voldemort, and he bowed to the promise of redemption from Dumbledore. He has never been his own man, always under another. Perhaps, this is his fate. His heart lightens. Perhaps, finally, he will find himself under a man he truly wants to be under. Literally. No, figuratively. He sighs. Both. If he is nothing else, he is honest with himself. He cannot win this battle. He chooses.

He kneels. He looks closely at those pink lips. They look so soft. So inviting. So dry. He leans in as though to kiss him. He does not touch him he only breathes over his mouth and breathes in his breath. He runs his hand a centimetre above the contours of the chest, not daring to risk touch. He pushes the cloak down further. He feels like an explorer. He belongs to another time. Another place. This is not his student. He is not the saviour of the wizarding world. He is a new land waiting to be explored. Discovered.

He is shocked to see that there is no waist band. He lifts the cloak and nearly comes at the sight. He pulls the cloak right off of Harry. He is lying on his side, naked from the waist down. His pyjama bottoms are in a ball under his feet. His flaccid penis is lying across his thigh. It is not overly long but Severus knows that looks can be deceiving. He is whole, uncut, and he thrills at the thought of suckling on the nippled hood. He swallows a moan.

Severus aches and he's not sure what to do. He should wake the boy and deduct numerous points and send him back to his dormitory. What he does do, surprises him.

His hand reaches beneath his robe and he pulls out his leaking cock. He brings it up to that perfect, pink mouth. He leans over and lightly brushes the tip of his cock along those tantalizing lips. When he pulls away there is a light smear of precome moistening those lips, reflecting the flickering flames of the fire. The tip of Harry's tongue slips out of his mouth and samples it. He groans at the taste and his penis twitches. Severus tugs on his balls. Harry has not woken up and Severus just stares, mesmerised.

He leans over and, closing his eyes smells the sweat of Harry's chest. When he opens them, his vision is filled with a pert nipple and his tongue flicks across it in a feather light motion. Harry moans again and Severus sits back and looks at his face. He's still asleep. He whispers his name. "Harry." There is no response.

He moves down towards that growing groin. He sees the tip of the spongy head, now peeking through the opening of the foreskin. He leans in and delicately runs his lips along the half hard shaft as though he is dragging a soft kiss from its curly haired root to its bulbous tip, warming it with his breath. Harry stirs. He looks up at his face. He still sleeps.

His tongue reaches out and he points it, aiming for the exposed part of the glands. He moans at the sharp taste. He can smell the sex, so strong. Harry moans out 'Professor'. Severus sits up in a panic, as though waking from a dream. He looks closely at a still sleeping Harry and stands. He takes a few steps back colliding into the side of the fireplace and leans against it, hands behind his back as he tries to regain control of himself. He can feel the rough edges of the brickwork digging into his hands. It grounds him. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, trying to regain control of his body.

Harry's eyes flutter open and he sees Snape standing against the fire hearth, eyes closed and hands behind his back. He lies very still so as not to be caught. He hopes Snape can't hear his heartbeat. Thank Merlin for his invisibility cloak! Harry can see Snape is hard, as his cock is tenting his bath robes and he is instantly hard. He had just been dreaming of Snape catching him but he knows the result would be anything but what his fantasies provide.

He closes his eyes and slowly reaches down to his hardened cock. He registers then that there is no glide of the cloak against his arm. His eyes snap open and he looks directly into black eyes that are looking directly into his. The black eyes run down his body and look pointedly at his now, fully exposed, fully erect penis. His own eyes look down at Snape's and he sees it twitch. His responds in kind. He looks back at his Professor. He is strangely calm and only now does he recognise the lust in the Professor's eyes. He figures that if Snape was going to cast an unforgivable, he'd have done so by now.

Harry's hand continues down his body, slowly, as though he is trying to keep from startling a wild animal. Perhaps, in a way, he is.

"Harry" Snape swallows the name as it passes his lips.

Harry grasps his cock and runs his finger over the leaking slit. Snape falls to his knees and moves towards Harry. Harry leans up on one arm and reaching for Snape's head with the other, pulls it closer. Their lips meet, tentative at first then Snape seems to wake from his bewildered state and he takes control of the kiss, tongue laving over Harry's lips, demanding entrance. He tangles his fingers into the mop at the back of Harry's head, holding it close, while his other hand splays across the exposed chest. His tongue searches the far reaches of Harry's mouth. He runs his fingers across the closest nipple it can find. Flicking, teasing. Harry moans into his mouth, around his tongue and he feels the vibrations as though they are directed at his cock.

Harry breaks the kiss and scrambles to sit up. He takes off his night shirt and stills. He is looking at the Professor who is now sitting back on his heals watching. Harry is completely naked and his penis stands out, hard and purple and proud from the dark nest of curls between his legs. Severus swallows. Harry lets his knees fall apart giving the Potions Master a full, unrestricted view of his entire body. Inviting him to sample it.

Severus crawls over, closing the small distance between them, and keeping his gaze locked with Harry's, he sticks out his tongue and flicks it across the leaking slit. Harry draws in a sharp gasp of breath.

"Please, Professor…"

"Not here, Harry. There is no 'Professor' here." With a last grasp at the morals he sees flitting out of the room he asks "Are you sure, Harry?"

"Oh, Merlin! Yes! I've been dreaming of it…"

"Then come." He stands and reaches out his hand. Harry takes it and Severus is pulling him off of the couch, leading him through that marble bathroom and through to the now-warm chambers within. He turns and with a handle on the door, he looks out and smiles at us. It is an evil smile and he shakes his head 'no'.

He pulls the door closed behind him and the faint sound of the lock clicking into place echoes through the room.

* * *

*evil grin* Please don't hurt me.

I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for sticking with me through my first piece of fan fiction (my first piece of creative writing actually.) I hope it wasn't too riddled with grammar errors and spelling mistakes. Please review and let me know what you think!

UPDATE: I couldn't leave it there...well the boys just wouldn't let me. I was enjoying the images they were sending me and thought it only fair to share them. I have one more chapter in the works.

I'm working on another piece and I should start posting shortly. It will have a plot _and _smut :) In the meantime, you can check out the shorter works that I wrote while I was working on "A Remedy for Sleep".


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Severus wanted Harry all to himself, it seems, however, that Harry had other things to say about that! It turns out our kinky little virgin likes to be watched. So, since he wouldn't leave me alone, we get to be the prime voyeurs in this little tale. Enjoy!_

I do not own these characters. I only play with them. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. I promise to return them, a little worse for wear but all in one piece.

**Prelude**: Harry looks at Snape curiously. "Are you sure you want to close the door?"

"Yes."

"But I'd for like them to watch." Harry gives him his most innocent smile. The smile quickly contorts into a lecherous leer.

Severus rolls his eyes and unlocks the door, opens it, sees us, nods and closes the door again.

**Actualization**

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Upon closing the door, he turns to Harry and smiles. Harry finds that the smile makes him nervous. He tries to remember this man ever smiling in the five years Harry has known him. He can only recall him coming close at the prospect of Harry's expulsion in second year. Harry sits on the end of the bed and watches Snape watch him. He turns and crawls up to the head of the large, canopied bed.

Severus gasps at the sight of the animated arse, the muscles slipping across the cheeks, as Harry moves. He holds his hands, balled, to his side. He decides there is nothing to be lost now. His path to hell is paved and all he can reasonably do is follow it.

His hand reaches out and he palms one of the cheeks, squeezing and massaging it. Harry looks over his shoulder and smiles at Severus, impishly. He pushes his arse towards him as he lowers his torso to the bed. The sight is nearly too much for Severus and he shucks his robe, ready.

Harry lets out a small gasp as he sees the Potion Master's body. He feels the arousal coil in his belly and he thrusts his hips back towards Severus. Severus kneels on the bed behind Harry, runs his hands reverently over the cheeks of his arse, down the outside of his thighs and back up the inside, pushing them open.

Harry understands the non verbal cue and widens his stance. His balls hang down between his splayed legs and his cock juts out in line with the bed. Severus runs the tips of his fingers down his perineum to the soft skin of his scrotum. He lifts the lower ball up in line with the higher one and releases it. He watches them swing. Harry moans and sways his hips back and forth setting his cock and balls in motion like a pendulum. Snape grasps his cheeks and spreads them, staring at the pucker and relishing in the view.

Harry takes a breath, nervous. "I've never…"

Severus looks up at him and releases the muscled cheeks. He pushes Harry over to his side. He climbs up beside him and runs his hand over his torso, looking into the green eyes, watching for any sign of hesitation. Harry just moans and leans up to kiss Severus, rolling him onto his back and lying on top of him. Their cocks meet and they both groan and push into the sensation.

Harry slides his body down the lean, creamy flesh beneath him, leaving a moist trail of kisses. He feels Snape's hot, solid shaft against his belly, chest, chin. He nuzzles it, smells it, wraps one hand around it and then tentatively reaches for it with his tongue and licks the precome off of the tip. He pulls back at the surprising bitterness. He looks up at Severus whose black eyes are fully dilated with lust. He smiles and reaches out again with his tongue, this time flicking the fraenulum. Severus squirms and the sight spurs a hesitant Harry onwards.

He slips his lips over the head of Snape's penis and making a tight ring, slides his mouth down. The sensation overwhelms Severus and his hips buck up driving his cock further into the moist mouth. Harry gags with the onslaught. Eyes watering, Harry pulls off the offending organ and stares accusingly at the hardened shaft. Severus chuckles and reaches for Harry, pulling him up into a passionate kiss.

"Tell me, Harry, what have you done? Have you ever been with another boy?" Harry shakes his head no and Severus continues "A girl?" Again, Harry shakes his head. "Have you ever kissed someone before?"

Harry looks down, embarrassed. "Once. I didn't really like it though. It wasn't like it is with you."

A long slender finger lifts Harry's chin so that he is looking at him. "What do you want from me, Harry? "

Harry swallows. "Everything." Severus' cock pulses.

"Do you know what 'everything' entails?"

Harry shakes his head and whispers "No, but I want to."

"Alright. We can move at your pace. Tell me if there is anything you'd like to try or if anything makes you uncomfortable." Severus placates his consciousness with this. "Lie back Harry." He does.

Severus leans over and gives him a quick, teasing kiss and Harry whimpers as the lips leave his. Severus buries his nose into the mass of black locks and his mouth finds Harry's ear. He drags his tongue along its cusp and then slips it into the canal, pistoning in and out in time with his fingers that are flicking back and forth across his nipple.

Harry squirms under the attack. Severus' lips move along his jaw, nipping and kissing down his neck. He takes up residence for a moment at the notch at the base of his neck, continues on to explore his collar bone and then runs his tongue down his breastbone, detouring to his nipple. He continues his administrations of the first nub with one hand while his tongue assaults the other. Harry grabs Snape's hair and tugs him off, reaching down to yank at his scrotum, staving off his impending orgasm. Snape chuckles a deep, throaty sound that requires a second tug from Harry. Snape leans up on his arm and looks in Harry's glistening eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Guhg" Harry nods. Then smiles dazedly and pushes Snape over onto his back and repeats the process on Snape. The administrations are effective and Snape grunts something about being a quick study and potions.

He reaches back up and they kiss and Severus retakes control, pushing Harry back over onto the bed. He runs his hands along Harry's side, watching the flesh shiver under his touch. His fingers card through the pubic hair at the base of the long, hard, weeping cock. It seems to have a mind of its own as it dances and twitches, seeking contact. Harry's hips buck up and he clenches the bed coverings in his fists trying to maintain his control.

Rolling Harry's balls in his hands, Severus looks up at Harry and with a grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, swallows Harry's prick in one fluid motion.

Buried to the root, Harry cries out. Severus inhales deeply, taking in the musky sent surrounding him and contracts his throat, constricting it around the head of Harry's penis Harry grunts and Snape sucks hard as he runs his tight lips up the shaft. He repeats the process once more and then Harry bucks his hips, thrusting his cock back down the hot throat and comes. He pulses his seed over and over and Snape swallows it and licks at the bits that escape. While Harry is recovering from the most intense orgasm he is sure he's ever had, Snape is licking his shaft, his pubic hairs and …Harry loses track as blackness overtakes him.

Severus looks up at Harry and notices he's passed out. He chuckles and moves to kiss him. He slips his tongue into the non responsive mouth and the salty bitter flavour seems to bring Harry back to consciousness. He groans and arousal flares in his belly as he realizes that it is his own flavour he tastes. Severus pulls back and smiles indulgently at his prize.

He pushes Harry over onto his belly and begins to explore the back of his neck, his own hard cock bobbing up and down as he shifts, hitting Harry in the bum, poking at him. He moves down and nuzzles his nose into his armpits, flicking out his tongue, savouring the unique taste of Harry.

He sits up and runs his hands down the taut body. His hands find the cracks of that delicious arse and he pulls apart the cheeks. He stares at the dark, tender pucker. He's aching to thrust into it but he won't yet. He wants this to last. He mutters a low level cleaning charm and pulls on Harry's hips. Harry understands his command and reassumes his early position, arse in the air and torso pushed against the bed.

Severus leans in and tastes him. His tongue slides over the pucker, back and forth. He pushes the flat of his tongue against it and feels the muscle relax and then clench.

Harry pushes up and looks over his shoulder at Snape with wild eyes, unable to believe what he just did. Severus looks up at him and smiles, burying his mouth between his cheeks and, without breaking eye contact, forces the tip of his tongue beyond the tight barrier. Harry gasps, and his eyes roll closed as he bucks his arse towards that talented tongue. He relinquishes all control to Snape as he relaxes into the bed and into the administrations of the wet tongue currently fucking his hole.

He's in a state of disbelief and his cock hardens fully at the thought that Severus Snape, Potions Master and Greasy Git of Hogwarts, currently has his tongue up his arse and ohhhh….Merlin! Is that his finger? Harry groans and starts to thrust his hips back to meet the incoming thrust of that finger. He gasps and his erection fades at the introduction of the second finger. It burns and he turns to ask Snape to stop when the fingers twist and suddenly there is a jolt of electricity that ignites all of his nerve endings. He no longer worries about the burn, as long as he promises to "never stop fucking doing that!" He startles when he hears his own voice and moans in pleasure at the repeated stroking and at the dusky voice that replies. "Prostate, Harry. A man's best friend."

Severus can feel the muscle relax around his fingers and he slips his tongue in along side them, coaxing it further. He doesn't want to hurt Harry. He suddenly has visions of what detentions _could_ be like. He definitely doesn't want to scare him off.

His prick pulses with each of Harry's moans. A third finger is finally introduced and he scissors them around, paying close attention to the pleasure button that keeps Harry thrusting back to meet him.

"Guhg, fuck! Fuck!" Harry can't form any words beyond the mantra he now chants. Severus chuckles again and lubes up his cock. The feel of his own hand on his cock is nearly too much sensation and he gives his balls a yank. Placing the spongy head of his penis at the now gaping and inviting hole, he grabs Harry's hips.

"Ready?" He doesn't wait for an answer as he feeds the tip of his penis to Harry's arse hole and he feels it slide in, forcing the ring of muscle to open for it. He feels it clamp down at the back of the head of his penis. He's tighter than anyone he's ever been with and he stops there for his own sake as much as Harry's. Harry gasps at the sensation and propping himself up, grabs his cock, giving it a couple of tugs, trying to distract himself from the burn.

Severus rubs his hand along Harry's back stopping at the base. He pushes down.  
"Arch your back Harry. It'll help relieve the pressure and it will hurt less." He does.

Severus feels the ring relax a bit against the intrusion and he leans up, placing his torso against Harry's back and loops his hands under Harry's arms, curling around to hold onto his shoulders. He's taller than Harry and he is able to nuzzle his nose into Harry's hair seeking out his ear. He gives it a lick and then whispers.

Harry can feel the hot breath against his ear and has to struggle through the arousal and the pain to make sense of the words. "Bear down Harry. It'll be easier." Severus feels Harry push against his cock and slides in further. He's glad he has to take it so slow for he's sure he'll come after one thrust into this tight, hot channel.

"Now, fuck! Now!"

The words drive Severus to action and he enshrines himself to the root. He waits a heartbeat as he kisses the shoulder in front of him. He rises and on his way up he licks at a drop of sweat that has accumulated between Harry's shoulder blades. He pulls out slowly, pauses and thrusts back in. Out, slowly….in. He watches as his moist cock pulls out while the friction of it pulls at Harry's pink pucker. He imagines that it is grasping at him, trying to pull him back in. He relents and thrusts back in, watching the ring disappear, following his cock to the innermost parts of Harry's body. Out. In. He needs to thrust harder but he doesn't want to frighten Harry.

He leans over Harry again, embracing him with one arm and reaching around to his cock with his other. His entire weight is being supported by the quidditch toned body beneath him.

He grunts out "Okay?" and Harry nods.

"More" is all he can manage and Severus takes this as permission to begin moving. He draws his hips back and snaps them forward, driving his cock into that hot hole. He begins pumping furiously and the hand on Harry's cock matches his pace. Soon Harry is thrusting back to meet him and thrusting forward into his hand. He grunts with each movement and his scream is gruff as his cock spurts its seed over Severus' hand. The clenching of Harry's cock is too much for Severus and he matches Harry's throaty cry as he shoots into Harry's arse. He continues pumping in and out of Harry as his pulsing arse milks every last ounce out of Severus. He falls, heavily, onto Harry's back and Harry collapses under the weight.

Harry manages a 'geroff', pushing at the Potions Master before blacking out. Severus rolls over and pulls his now flaccid penis out of Harry with a wet schlurp. He sits up and pushes back the black mop of hair from the sweat soaked brow and places a kiss on the faint scar that decorates it. He runs his hands reverently down Harry's flushed face.

He then leans over and runs his finger down the crack of Harry's arse, and slips it into the abused hole. He can feel his come and pulls his finger out, rubbing his thumb and finger, feeling the viscous material. He sits up further and spreads Harry's cheeks. He watches his ejaculate drip down Harry's perineum and onto the bed. He kisses, and then nips his butt cheek. He runs his fingers through it again, sighs, and reaches for his wand. He casts a cleaning spell.

He looks up at his sleeping…student? lover? and he commiserates with the feeling of exhaustion. He drags the covers out from under them, covers them, pulls Harry close up against him and spooning the boy, determines he'll worry about defining this in the morning. His eyes are heavy and they drift closed.

They sleep.

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Thank you so much for sticking with me. This will be the end of this little tale. Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed! I love to hear from you all. Please consider dropping me a line if you've enjoyed this or if you have any ideas as to how I can improve my writing. This is my first fanfic and I'd like to continue and to improve.

On that note, please check out my other shorter works. Each one is (I think) very different from each of the others in terms of the story line if not the style. Let me know what you think of those as well.

I'm sure I'll see you again shortly as I'm working on another fic. I should be posting the first chapter soon! Thanks again!


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